Thursday, September 08, 2005

I want to be a hooker

not a real hooker, pervert But first, an amusing anecdote. When I was a child, I watched a police drama, and armed with a slightly new vocabulary word, asked my Mother "What is a hooker?". My Mother told me that "Hookers are women who sell their bodies". "What generous people" I thought. I imagined women ready to hack off and sell an arm to a person in need, perhaps a kidney, or a clavicle. Obviously, my naivety was in full swing back then.

And now, in late 2005, I find myself wanting to be a hooker. I was shopping the other day, and a woman reading a magazine caught my eye. I tried not to make it obvious, but there I was thinking about it. Right there on the shelf, next to the magazine she had picked up was a copy of "Rug Hooking". Primitive Rug Hooking to be exact. Designs that would grace the hardwood floors of my turn of the century townhouse. I couldn't stop thinking about it.

Fast forward to Tuesday, when I was finally back at my Glam Library. Little did I know, we had an entire section on Rug Hooking, and further, a generous collection of books on Primitive Rugs . Just the idea of working with wool makes me all tingly, or maybe that's my allergies acting up.

Somehow, the art of making rugs just seems appropriate. I'm already practically perfect in every way (eat your heart out Mary Poppins). I already make beeswax candles, and hand milled soap. I can bake, and sew (my summer hot flash of Dorothy Draper-style pillows got a little out of hand). At any, while I may not be the next Martha Stewart, I have got this domestic librarian thing down to a science.

Now if I could only design my own line of interior paint, I'd be all set, but I suppose I do need something to look forward to, outside of Celebrity Librarianship.

Moral of this blog: This hooker wants it all over the floor.

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